


Transformations

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip and Malcolm contemplate the changes in each other. Postep, 3.08 "Twilight." (11/18/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

I punch in another number on my console. Same as before: phaser cannons at full power, photonic torpedoes safely in their bays, awaiting my order to release their deadly havoc. I look up and see him. The captain of Enterprise. He's been captain of this ship the longest. Eight years. First warp five capable Earth vessel. Earth...is it really gone? I sometimes can't believe it's real. I wonder if I'm living a dream...no, nightmare. Patrolling for those bloody Xindi, day after day, wondering when they're going to find us and finish us off. He turns to look at me and smiles that knowing smile we share. I drink him in, committing that face to memory. Blond hair, once combed up and always stiff, now flecked with gray, scattering across his forehead. His eyes...his eyes...so blue once, so vibrant and full of life, twinkling, mischievous, now diluted with worry and antipathy for what we're doing, why we have to do it. His smile brings out the wrinkles and lines around those once-lively eyes, the furrows of eight years of constantly watching his back...no, our backs, constantly prepared to tell us who to fight when to fight why to fight. These years have strained him, pressing him down with the onus of command. Yet, he smiles at me, a genuine, heartfelt smile for his friend and first officer. I love him.

* * *

I watch the peaceful planet below us on the view screen. Do they raise their eyes to the sky to see if we're still watching out for them? I turn to see him looking at me. Those bottomless gray-blue eyes are upon me. More gray now, steel having entered them through years of watching our backs. He's the first line of defense, always ready, always waiting. Eight years now. Eight long, grueling years wondering when _they're_ gonna show up to complete their mission. I take him all in: wavy brown hair still looking picture perfect since the day I met him...no, it's different now. It wears the colors of age and unkind duty at the sides. The beard...when did he grow it? Was he ever without it? I want to feel it against my fingertips, tickling. Creases surround his eyes, a barrier created by anguish. Against the horrors he's seen? Against the loneliness? No, you're not alone. I'm here; I'll always be here, my love.


End file.
